


... but not quite.

by Abecedary



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 06:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abecedary/pseuds/Abecedary
Summary: Set sometime after the War, brief glimpse of Seifer taking a step into the unknown...





	... but not quite.

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the beginning of something, or i might just leave it there. I'm not sure.  
> I'm writing something longer for Squall and Seifer at the moment but I've got all tied up with it and this little idea came to me on my train journey home from work today. Typed on my phone in a jiggly train carriage so i hope there aren't too many mistakes.  
> love.

Seifer signed his name on the proverbial dotted line.

He had agreed to everything she wanted, he didn't quibble. Half the sale of the house. Half the contents of his bank account. He couldn't begrudge her that. He had wanted kids so badly, now he was grateful it had never happened for them. Not for lack of trying, he resisted the smirk. At least at the beginning.

Actually sex had never been an issue between them, it was the more intimate stuff that he had struggled with. Sex yes. Making love, no. He just couldn't pull it off. It was when he tried to hold eye contact while he penetrated her, breath her in while they rocked together that she was most obviously _not_ Squall.

That had been a _Hyne-awful_ realisation, made him physically sick in fact. He threw his guts up as he chocked on the sudden horrifying reality of it. She was a beautiful girl, fine features and pale skin. Beautiful like Squall, but not quite. She was slight and her chocolate hair hung round her face in bangs like Squall's, but not quite. She was quite and introverted. Her smiles for him were small and private like Squall's, but... it was about 6 months into their marriage that one completely ordinary, lazy Sunday morning she curled up against him in their bed. He was half asleep, content and drowsy. Her dark hair spilled across his pillow. He snaked his arm around her, his hand coming to rest on her left breast... and everything was suddenly wrong. The body was wrong. The smell was wrong. She was wrong.

His fingers craved the smooth, nearly hairless abs of another person. The narrow hardness of him. His broad shoulder blades and jutting hip bones... He scrambled away from her out of the bed, shame filling the pit of his stomach. Ice cold horror. How could he have done this to her? She loved him, trusted him. Had married him even and it had all been wrong... he lurched for their small en suit and retched until his eyes streamed.

When he finally emerged she was sat up in their bed, sheets pooled around her feminine waist, concern in her cold blue eyes. Like Squall's but not quite... and that was the beginning of the end.

With that signature he ended his first and, in all likelihood, only marriage. He was resigned to it. It was Squall or nothing in that department and he highly doubted Leonheart would be doing the matching rings thing with him any time soon. Not the sex department, mind you, he was a free agent now. Just the love bit. Just the bit that matters. Stepping out of the solicitors office into the frosty mid-December air he felt free in a way he had no idea he had missed. He tossed his bag over his shoulder. He would leave her to conduct the sale of their house. She was much better with that stuff than he was. All he had taken was his weapon, his coat and as many socks and pants he could fit in the bag. Toothbrush, hair gel and a train ticket to Balamb Garden... 


End file.
